Aftermath
by iRoRo
Summary: Proof that words can hurt you. Skye wished she wasn't so sensitive as she deals with the aftermath of Ward's rage. A coming of age story for Skye.
1. Chapter 1

_Ward didn't mean it._

The voice in my head was plagued with self-doubt, disappreciating and counteracting the words I had just said, even while I spoke them.

_He didn't mean it. _I told myself more firmly, grasping the sink tightly as though it were my anchor.

I had lost count of the numerous times I had repeated that sentiment today, trying to assuage my insecurities –insecurities that had once been buried so deep-that were resurfacing once more.

That I was unlikable.

That no one would ever want me.

That I was incapable of forming steadfast friendships or relationships.

That all I did was talk, talk, _talk. _I squeezed my eyes shut as I tried to ignore the mental picture of Ward's accusing eyes and condescending expression as he yelled those hate filled words at me. It echoed in my head, haunting me. He had never looked or talked to me like that before. In those moments I had felt like a twelve year old girl, reprimanded and helpless like I had been, many years ago.

I hated how that face, that twisted facial expression, reminded me of countless people—foster homes, adoption agencies, my sucky past life in general. Things I wanted to forget and individuals I didn't want to remember. I didn't want to associate Ward with _those _people. Because he wasn't like them, he wasn't anything like them. And he didn't deserve to be put into the same category as child abusers, indifferent guardians, or cruel individuals. Instead Ward was overprotective and he cared about others probably to a fault, he was a decent guy with a hard exterior shell.

I stared at myself in the bathroom mirror, trying to unfurrow my furrowed brow and morph my grimace into the usual upbeat countenance and optimistic persona that everybody knew me for. It was the only way I could leave the bathroom without everyone knowing I was overly emotional. Because me and too much emotion led to a runny nose and watery, rid rimmed eyes. I was a crier. But I was a crier with priorities. I never cried in front of other people. Plus I really didn't want to be pestered with questions today.

"GAH!" I gave a shout of frustration, smacking my forehead with my palm to the rhythm of my chanting. "Stupid, stupid stupid!"

I was being stupid and dumb and petty. And I clearly had to work on finding better vocabulary besides the locale words of an eight year old.

Ward had a lot going on. He had to deal with all his emotional baggage and overloaded rage and his guilt courtesy of some freakin' alien staff, and he especially didn't need to feel increasingly guilty and burdened over hurting her feelings of all things. And like he said, that wasn't even him talking. It was the residue side effects of the alien staff or whatever.

He was fine.

I was fine.

Recalling his words, his other words- the question he had asked with admirable incredulity, _Does everything roll right off your shoulder?_ I resolved to apply that to my lifestyle.

Just let the words and hurt roll right off my shoulder. Plastering a large smile on my face, I finally stepped out of the bathroom, pretending that nothing was wrong.

It was all a big fat lie though.

Ward wasn't fine. That much was clear to see. That notion practically screamed at me the moment I laid eyes on him. It wasn't just the bruises and wounds that littered his skin, marring his features into colors and hues of purple and blue. I winced as I looked at his decorative skin and slumped shoulders. My heart constricted painfully at the sight of him and the realization that he almost _died _hit me hard reminiscent of a freight train.

I guess it was sort of ridiculous and laughable that it took me this long to come to that epiphany. Life for agents was dangerous. That I, or that my fellow teammates, had the probability of dying on each mission we got sent on was very much a reality. It was a straightforward fact But it only dawned on me right now, at this instant, when I saw Ward. Usually strong, agile, and youthful Ward looking so vulnerable and damaged. The protector looked like he needed protecting.

I attempted to quell the waves of panic that engulfed me. I had forgotten what it was like to care, to worry about another. I had been alone so long, so emotionally distant- that few people had breached my walls. In fact, besides Miles, I didn't really have anybody.

Until now.

Until I had my team.

Now I had a whole new group to care and worry about.

It was reassuring and frustrating at the same time. I shied away from the thought of losing them.

I was finally beginning to understand, to grasp an inkling, of why Ward was so serious and hellbent on my training. Why he was tense and edgy and brooding.

As Ward's dark eyes met mine, what called out to me most was his mental pain. I could see it in his eyes: anguish, rage, hurt.

Two notions hit me.

He was not fine.

And neither was I.

We were barely walking the line of fine.

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**Hope you enjoyed. Please review! Will post a new chapter shortly :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 2.**

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It had been a little over two weeks since the incident with the Asgardian staff yet things only appeared to be getting worse. Our team was ripping apart at the seams and though everyone was very much aware of this, we, being as efficient and successful as we were on missions, seemed to be at a loss of how to rectify the inevitability of our team's ultimate downfall.

At the rate we were going, Ward would soon be cationic and our team would be deemed a fail, become most likely disbanded by S.H.I.E.L.D , where we would then be separately forced into other groups. Groups and teams that could never replace my first one that I now considered my home.

Our team was so small, that even one non-functioning aspect would affect the whole of it. In other words, when Ward suffered- we all suffered. When he couldn't get his part of a mission done, we were unable to do our part of a mission. Everything was a collaborative effort. But it was more than just the success rate or logistics of our missions.

We all cared about him in our own way.

So simply, when he hurt, we felt for him. When he alienated himself in his room, we felt his absence as the rest of us congregated together. Our laughs were less as our worry and agitation grew more.

Still, we couldn't say he wasn't trying. He was trying with every fiber of his being to get himself under control, to manage his strength and suppress his rage. I could tell his lapses in judgment upset him more than he was letting on. That he loathed his inability to do his job. No amount of comfort or reaching out would solace him. Actions spoke louder than words for Ward as he was a man of few words. And his actions had led us to near misses and the accidents on the job. It didn't matter if we didn't blame him, knowing Ward made us realize that he held himself up to irrevocably high standards.

I knew this but I still couldn't help trying to reach out, and getting abruptly shut out every time I tried. Even before I opened my mouth to provide some optimistic cheer equivalent of "you got this" or "don't give up" or "yeah, go team!", Ward would shoot me down.

"Skye, Don't go there" Ward would warn.

So I never did.

And now it was too late because he was gone.

The latest of accidental accidents had resulted in a new catalyst, Ward had just up and left. He had resigned, left us- whatever you wanted to call it. Nobody had any idea where to find him, not that it would stop us from scouring the planet for him.

And it was all my fault.

I sighed, haphazardly brushing my disheveled locks of hair out of my eyes rather forcefully, assuaging the pent up frustration I currently felt.

_Blasted curls._

Not that my hair was the main focal issue here, but it still added to my growing irritation. It was a contributing, albeit minuscule, factor.

I knew my appearance must look crazed but I simply couldn't find it within myself to care. My already unruly hair now proceeded to remotely resemble something similar to a haystack, courtesy of running my anxious hand through the coffee colored tangled mane. If I hadn't been so stressed, I would probably find my said appearance comical. But right now I was simply trying to get all my emotions under control, and try not to get a headache. The easygoing and lazy smile that usually sprawled across on my lips was replaced by a downturned frown and furrowed brow. It seemed to be the look that greeted me more and more these days. The life of an agent was slowly changing me.

Here I was, muttering my complaints and assurances under my breath like a bloody lunatic, looking like the lovely sane person that I assuredly said I was. Here and there I noticed my fellow teammates tentative gazes flicker and stop to stare at me, pondering my sanity. I scowled fiercely at said passersby (namely Fitz and Simmons) and they, smart lads that they were, got the message and scuttled off. A stab of guilt struck me immediately after, knowing they wanted to provide and receive comfort in this catastrophe, but it wasn't enough to make me move and go chase after them.

Wonderful. I was totally on top of this whole "making new friends" thing, I thought sarcastically, watching my fellow peers' receding backs. The body image I presented now and throughout the whole damn day was akin to feck off. But I wanted no comfort. I just wanted to comfort the stupid idiot of a man who loved to shoulder heap after piling heap of guilt on his shoulders as if that was part of his job description.

I closed my eyes, touching the hefty bruise that sprawled across my chest as I relived the final scenario that had ultimately led Ward to the decision to leave his team for the good of everyone.

To leave me.

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**Twenty-Four Hours Earlier**

"Come on Skye, you're better than this. I know it" Ward berated, watching my apparently sloppy stance as we proceeded with my regular training. I didn't mention it but I was secretly impressed that he hadn't abandoned his responsibilities as an S.O even though he wasn't completely holding it together as of late.

"Though I really enjoy you're high expectations of me" I huffed in tiredness, "I'm really not as good as you seem to think I am"

I punched the bag with as much strength as i could muster, watching with dismay as the heavy sack barely moved an inch.

Ward sighed in disappointment. And my heart sank. My eyes darted to him, taking in the dark circles protruding from his eyes, the stubble that he hadn't bothered to shave, and his more haggard appearance in general. I couldn't help noticing, with a strange lurch in my stomach at the thought, that even though Ward looked ragged to the bone, he still a held a strength that radiated across the room. He practically screamed alpha male, this six foot man that towered over her, all sinewy muscle and lean. It called to me on a primitive level and darkly, I tried to ignore it.

I missed the punching bag, distracted with the way he looked at me, all hooded eyes and brooding. Ward scoffed at my attempt, and folded arms.

"Come on Skye" He repeated, scolding gently.

I was trying. I really was. I knew he wanted to be able to do something right and since he was jeopardizing missions at the moment, he wanted to be at least a good S.O for me. Clearly he thought he was doing a bad job. But it was more clear to me that I really just sucked.

I wanted to tell him that it didn't matter if he was teaching me or if the hypothetical God Thor was, either way my strength ability would remain the same. The punching bag would not move and I would clearly still suck and be a shitty student.

"Hands up higher" he ordered. "Legs bent"

I moaned in protest, trying to oblige and ignore my aching muscles. All for the sake of pleasing this scowling man who needed to realize that I could not just grow a six pack in a day. It was physically impossible.

"You're too much of a perfectionist" I grumbled. "Or you just like dictating"

His lip twitched at that, probably because it was true, but he didn't comment. Instead Ward came behind me, placing one hand on my rib cage and the other steadying my arm. He was close, too close that it was uncomfortable. So close that I could feel his breathe on my neck.

I stiffened, inhaling sharply, suddenly extremely and hyeraware of how he enveloped me. His body neatly lining up against me. My back bumping into the ridges of his chest. My face was flaming and I was glad he couldn't see it.

"Relax" He murmured, trying to position my body into the correct stance. One hand circled around my waist and pulled me closer as Ward tried to adjust my body like a rag doll of sorts.

My tensed in response, having the opposite effect to what he intended.

God, what was wrong with me? I thought furiously embarrassed. I was acting like hormonal testosterone happy male. It was ridiculous. His body being so close shouldn't have such an effect on me. He on the other hand did not even appear to be aware that I was female as his face had a pure look of consternation, clearly lodged into his training mindset. Ward could be very focused like that. Head in the game, nothing could distract him.

"What's with you today?" Ward puzzled, scratching the back of his head. My body wasn't cooperating and so he finally relented, stepping back. I took a small sigh of relief as his proximity faded.

"Alright" He decided. "How about you watch me do the correct stance instead? Stand back over there"

I did gladly, watching the way he took position. He looked every bit the formidable and intimidating solider that I could never personify.

"Alright", Ward tossed out, "You better be paying attention rookie. You're going to try again after and if you can't do it right, you're going to drop and give me ten"

He winked as I stuck out my tongue childishly.

Then Ward punched the bag, correct form and correct stance. Everything was accurate except the part where he calculated his now inane monstrous strength. One minute the bag was hanging on the rope, and the next second it was wrenched from its stable hold, flying directly towards me as Ward watched in horror.

No time for me to move.

No time for him to stop it.

All I could do was close my eyes and prepare myself for the surmountable pain.

Then all I saw was black.

* * *

I blinked and opened my eyes, touching the extravagant bruise on my chest from where the punching bag had struck me.

And the reason why Ward, being who he was, had decided to leave.

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**Hey guys! So I know the chapters are short but I'll try to make them longer as I continue. I just work better when writing small increments. I hope you **

**liked it! Please review and tell me what you think. It only takes a second **


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Hey there fellow readers! Just so you know, the last chapter I edited and added numerous scenes since my first posting of it. I ended up rereading and found it lacking, so I added some scenes. You might what to go back to reread it. But if you don't want to, the gist of it is that Ward accidentally hurts Skye during training due to his monstrous strength. That was the catalyst for him deciding to up and leave for good. Anyway, that pretty much sums it up. Hope you enjoy this chapter.**

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**CHAPTER 3**

**Twenty-three hours ago**

I blinked blearily, trying to pull myself back into existence, and leave the heavy darkness of unconsciousness behind me. As I groggily opened my eyes, the world spun round me reminding me of my past life where I would drink myself into a stupor on my darkest days.

I groaned, groggily trying to recall what happened to me. Hell, I felt terrible. Heavy, sluggish, and probably sedated. Slowly, the confusion and fog lifted and all the memories came surging back. Ward, the punching bag, the pain.

My eyes flew open and were immediately met with a pair of conflicted brown ones, ridden completely with guilt. I blinked and tried to adjust, take it all in. I was in my room, in my bed, and Ward was sitting by my bedside. His hand clasped mine loosely, adding a layer of warmth to my skin. I glanced down, secretly liking the way our hands fit together- one tan and calloused, the other smaller, and more porcelain.

"Wow, what does a girl have to do to get her supervising officer waiting by her bedside?" I joked hoarsely, struggling to pull myself in a sitting position. My pathetic excuse for a joke hit Ward's nerve as he flinched, and my smile faded slightly. What did a girl have to do? Well, this girl had to be wounded by her S.O so that the said S.O would wait by her bedside, tortured by a guilty conscience.

I had only been kidding but Ward and the term "kidding" had never understood one another.

Ward looked mechanic, the nerves on his forehead contorted, and he looked a bit green. A sheen of sweat glistened on his brow, his hand-which was clenching my wrist- had tightened incrementally, to the point that another bruise would probably be in the making. Not that I was going to say anything.

"You okay there S.O buddy?" I peered at him in concern, he looked how I felt on the inside. Terrible.

"Skye", he blurted, "I can't apologize enough. I-What I did-I thought-" Ward paused, his words in fragments, and his countenance portraying such an agonized pain of guilt and self-hate that I had to look away.

"Ward don't—" I began, "Don't do this self-hating brooding thing" I stroked his arm in a soothing comfort and he jerked away in a rage.

"Stop being so damn nice about this! I'm serious" He barked, standing up suddenly and towering over me. I wasn't intimidated though; I jutted my chin out defiantly, ignoring his bull dog tenacity.

Ward just stop" I picked at my bedspread. Hadn't he understood? I had made a joke before, a way to skip pass the tension. To assert that this was fine, we could blow over this incident. There was nothing to forgive- he didn't have to apologize. It wasn't his fault. Anyway, I was fine. What did it matter?

"I could have killed you" He whispered.

"But you didn't" I retorted in exasperation. Why was he so desperate to burden himself down with grief?

"But I could have" He said again, stubbornly. He gently touched my cheek, tracing the bruise that formed there. A wake of fire and heat torched my skin where he touched me. The sensation wasn't unpleasant. I shivered and tried to ignore my initial reaction to lean into his touch like some kind of feline cat. I wasn't a pet.

"Look Ward. The fact remains is that I'm fine. A few bruises and scrapes but so what" I shrugged and raised my shoulders, pretending I didn't feel the pain "I'm just peachy"

I continued with my lecture, irritated that he didn't appear to hear a word I was saying. He was still looking at me like I was on my death bed.

I finally prodded him in the stomach and he snapped to attention, finally listening to what I had to say on the subject matter.

"You can't just, just hold yourself responsible for everything that goes wrong! You can't feel bad for everything. Remember when I accidentally hit you on the head with that hammer? I didn't feel bad for that egg sized bruise on your head" I countered hotly.

Ward's lip twitched into a smile at that. "You should have. Fitz was laughing at my appearance for days" he droned.

I laughed "maybe I'll even get some battle scars" I was excited by the idea as strange as that may seem. I couldn't explain it but scars almost seemed to verify my place as an agent. An agent was one who faced danger, had scars, not dainty smooth and perfect skin.

"Jesus, Skye- don't say things like that" He frowned at me. "Those would be scars I gave you" He winced at the thought.

"No" I corrected, "those would be the scars that stupid punching bag gave me. It's so like me, only I would be the one agent who gets knocked out by a punching bag" I laughed again at the thought.

"come on ward, it's kind of funny. Ridiculous actually. Knocked out by a punching bag, first scars from a punching bag" I snorted, a bit slaphappy from pain and lack of a good sleep.

"I'm not laughing" Ward's expression was stoic.

"Okay, okay" I held my hands up in defense "I give up Mr. no fun. I'm sorry"

"No, I'm sorry" he said seriously.

I waved away his apology, dismissing it quickly.

"Would you like some sedatives?" He inquired, analyzing me sharply and missing nothing. He saw the grimace on my face, my clenched fist, and the sweat of strain that dripped from my temple.

"Nope" I smiled at him sweetly.

"Skye" he said in disapproving tone. I rolled my eyes but shook my head again. No.

No, I wouldn't'. Not because I didn't want the medicine. God did I want the painkillers. But because I needed to keep an eye on him. See, I didn't trust Ward not to do something stupid. Sure, he seemed all good and well right now but the thing about Ward was that he was this infuriating thing called a passive-aggressive individual. He would bottle everything he was thinking and feeling inside, and have inner monologue conversations with himself. He would talk himself into circles without taking any outside opinions, decide something all in his mind, and not spout a word to another. Whereas I, I liked to talk. I liked to discuss, hash it out, figure it out, and have closure. He, on the other hand, avoided conversations and emotional discussions like the plague.

So basically, knowing him as I did, Ward would likely talk himself into back into his guilty conscience. He would think and think all in his head, decide he was a terrible person or something of the like, and berate himself up like crazy throughout the rest of the day.

Not on my watch.

"Seriously Skye, please just take some" He gestured the tiny pills at me, pills that would put me too sleep for hours, escaping into bliss and oblivion. I practically salivated at the thought.

"How about a compromise?" I suggested, I really did want those pills. Heaven in a bottle.

Ward's eyes narrowed in suspicion "Okay, shoot"

I patted the bedspread next to me, my eyes shiny and pleading. Puppies around the world would despise me. "Please? Stay?" The bed was plenty big enough for both of us.

Ward raised his eyebrows in surprise "You want me to stay with you?" he said skeptically.

"I feel safer with you around" I replied honestly.

"That's ironic" Ward said dryly, but still he obliged. He handed me the pills and I swallowed them happily, snuggling into the shoulder of my warm and sturdy life size pillow of an S.O.

"you make a great pillow" I said thoughtlessly, closing my eyes as I rested against his chest. He wrapped one arm around me and I felt comforted.

The pills were taking an immediate effect, whatever they were- they were strong stuff. I could already feel myself slipping at the edges and I struggled to say the words on the tip of my tongue, not satisfied in sleeping until I said them.

"Promise me you'll stay till I wake up?" I said thickly.

He hesitated a second before replying "I promise"

That was all I needed to hear, and I let myself drift into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

Ward had lied. And I was furious.

He was gone when I woke. Gone, gone, gone.

Now Coulson and May were gone looking God knows where, and I was still in the Jet.

Movies were a lie too. In movies you knew exactly where to look to find someone you cared about. You knew there special places, knew where they went when they were upset. Even the most tiny and minuscule location, the person you lost would be found.

I, we, had no idea where Ward had disappeared too.

I had no idea where to look. It made me realize that even after all the months we had spent in close quarters together; I still didn't know much about my former S.O. I cared about him, knew certain habits, knew what he liked for breakfast, but I barely knew anything about his personal life. He needed a wrench to his mouth to make him spill his secrets.

Now, that was our loss. We didn't know him so we didn't know where he went.

Perhaps, I now realized, we would never get that chance to rectify this.

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**Hello! I hope you liked it. I know it's a bit slow moving but I'm a stickler for details and whatnot. Tell me what you think and review. I love critiques or suggestions. **


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